


One of a Kind

by titansatemysoul



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon Fix It, fashion - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 01:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13447233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titansatemysoul/pseuds/titansatemysoul
Summary: While waiting for Noctis after a suit fitting, Ignis gets carried away and the King's consort is adorned in a garment worthy of his poise.





	One of a Kind

**Author's Note:**

> So, today marks exactly **one year** since I started writing for the XV fandom. I'm consistently overwhelmed by the support and love I've received in every one of my fics and I'm so very grateful. I have no plans to stop anytime soon, so here's to another good year!

Ignis stands, stock still, arms raised, elongating his neck to make space for the measuring tape that brushes his collar.

“Another glass of wine, Your Grace?” An attendant asks to his left. Ignis casts his eyes downward, indulging in a private moment at the use of his relatively new title.

“You may relax,” says the designer at his feet. Today she acts as seamstress, as if she, Valentina Cassius, isn’t a revered designer, hailing from Altissia but known throughout the continent.

“I’m fine,” Ignis responds, dropping his limbs to his sides. “But if you would.” He holds out his hand.

There’s a mumbled, ‘of course’, before his glass is given, the bowl resting comfortably in his palm.

“Does it look alright?” he asks the room, sipping the last of a crisp white, effervescence left on his tongue. It certainly feels like it does, the fabric falling impeccably over the contours of his body, both soft and sharp.

Altissia has gone through its own reconstruction alongside its ally, great stone monoliths taken back from the depths, raised proud once again along it’s coastline. The opulence to which it once boasted has been abandoned, the city returning to its roots, built on the backs of artisans and tradesman alike. Despite this, it’s culture seeps through, civic pride and commitment to its history apparent in newly crafted buildings and waterways. Years under the sea have eroded it’s edges, letting its people break free of the once rigid expectations wrapped up in the pretense of beauty.

Altissian fashion has taken on a new meaning, illustrated in the longer cut of his suit, closer to the waist and falling loose around his hips.

“You’re a vision,” the attendant, Ella, says eagerly, met with hushed chastising by her employer, then, quieter, “Excuse me, Your Grace.”

“I’ll have it waiting when you arrive at the Estate,” Valentina assures him. “It’s only the jacket that needs adjustment.”

Ignis allows his glass to be taken, shrugging off the garment to be given to its maker.

“I must thank you for your accommodation,” he tells her, carefully stepping off the pedestal, allowing himself to be led to the couch in the corner. “I know male clothing is not your preferred area of design. I admit I’m not used to quite this much fanfare around my wardrobe, but you’ve made it more than bearable.”

“You wear my clothes better than most of my models,” she assures him. “My country is eager to receive you and His Majesty after so many years. It’s been an honor and a privilege.”

“I’ll call for your car,” Ella offers, her soft footfalls melting into the thick carpeting. Ignis waves her off.

“No need,” he pauses a moment, choosing his words. “My husband has promised to meet me. I expect it’s his way of escaping the last of his obligations for the day. Hopefully he won’t be too long.”

There’s a clattering from across the room at the mention of the King of Lucis, and then a pained ‘my phone!’.

“You’re welcome as long as you like,” Valentina says, a bit strangled. “My assistant will tend to whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” Ignis says warmly, leaning back into the fine cushioning. “I think I’ll have more wine while I wait, if you wouldn’t mind.”

-

Noctis, of course, is late. He watches the city pass by through his window, it’s citizens milling about in a way that recalls Insomnia’s former livelihood more each day.

The studio sits on the top floor of an industrial building turned complex just outside the city proper. It’s floor to ceiling windows shimmer under the sunlight as he approaches, drenched without the hindrance of a protective wall casting a shadow of wartime over the capital.

The lift takes him up, groaning and shuddering until it reaches the top. There’s laughter not far off, coming from behind the studio doors. Multiple people, though one rings out over the others.

“Stand still, Your Grace!” One woman orders. “I don’t want to prick you.”

“I’m sorry,” Ignis lilts, followed quickly by, “I’m not used to such,” he laughs. “Layering, I suppose. How does one put such things on when they’re alone?”

“Very slowly,” a second woman giggles. “It’s necessary, Your Grace. A girl must leave something to the imagination after all.”

“Now why would a girl as lovely as yourself ever want to do that?” Ignis says, charming as ever as Noctis opens the door.

The King is immediately struck by the vision before him. Ignis stands in the center of the room atop the designer’s pedestal. He is adorned in not a suit, but a gown. The winding patterns of the bodice look as though they’ve been inked directly onto his alabaster skin. Sun reflects off the trifold mirror behind him, casting a glow around the pockets of exposed flesh. Pitch tresses fall from his waist, weightless around his lithe body, one shock of fabric arranged in the center revealing the intricate lace running down his thighs.

The girl cradled in Ignis’ hand sees him first, lurching back, face pink and eyes wide. The proprietor is next, sinking at the hip.

“Your Majesty,” the two murmur, stepping away from his consort.

The room is silent when Ignis turns to face him, the ghost of his smile on his lips. His wrists bear pitch fabric, lace wrapping the bone. A single chord reaches his middle finger, making them look impossibly long, coiled delicately around his glass.

“Did you even make it to the suit?” Amusement is laced around the question, though it’s lost on all but Ignis.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he says, trying not to meet the King’s audible smirk with his own.

“A shame,” Noctis replies. “The dress flatters you much better.” He turns to the designer, voice resuming a benevolence fit only for a King. “Don’t you agree?”

“Noctis,” Ignis chides him, lifting the hem to step carefully off the pedestal. The King meets him halfway, placing a kiss on his cheek, seamlessly taking the glass from his hand and bringing it to his lips. “You’re late.”

“I can’t say I feel all that guilty,” Noctis says, holding him at the shoulder to look him up and down. “I like this.”

“Come, Your Grace,” Valentina hurries forth. “We’ll have you out of this in no time and you and His Majesty can be on your way.”

“It’s alright,” Noctis stops her, smiling warmly between the three. “There’s no rush.”

“Your work is beautiful Madame Cassius,” he says, glancing between the two women. Valentina steps forward, clearly the more comfortable of the two.

“Valentina, Your Majesty, please,” she says, beckoning for her star-struck assistant. “And my assistant, Eleanor.”

“Or Ella,” she pipes up, immediately cowering under the gaze of both the King and her mentor. “Ella is fine.”

“We don’t have fashion like this in Insomnia,” Noctis goes on, seating himself on the couch, eyes still on his husband. “Yet, at least. If this is what the future looks like, I’d imagine it won’t be long.”

“Your Majesty, I don’t know what to say,” Valentina falters, though clearly quite pleased. “But that is my aim, one day.”

“A fine goal to be sure,” Ignis says, running his hands over his sides, taking in the fine details through his fingertips. “I’m sure your clients clamor for something as lovely as this.”

“It’s one of a kind,” Ella pipes up, her eagerness to share overshadowing her nerves. “Due to debut in the showroom next month!”

“It still needs something,” Valentina says, appraising the way it falls on Ignis’ frame.

“Well, I think you’ve found it,” Noctis replies, grinning as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Is this for sale? When it’s finished, of course.”

“Noctis,” Ignis cuts in, shifting the fabric to walk across the room. “You’re too impulsive. All due respect to you, Valentina, but I’ve no occasion to wear it.”

Valentina looks torn, unwittingly caught between a King and companion.

“I take no offense,” she begins, but Noctis holds a hand, silencing whatever else she might have said.

“You should wear it for the ceremony,” he says. He rises, going to Ignis where he stands, encircling his face in his hands. “It’s only fitting.”

Ignis sighs, placing his own hand over his husband’s. Of course, Noctis will get what he wants.

“What do you think?” Noctis turns to Valentina, taking up a more serious demeanor once again. “Altissia has always been gracious in adopting our culture. It’s long overdue that Lucis show the same respect.”

“Your Majesty, it’s certainly not my place to say,” Valentina says, a hand flying to her chest.

“Please,” Noctis persists. “I’d love to showcase such craftsmanship, but you’d know better than I what’s appropriate.”

“Well…”

“We’ll take the suit as well of course,” he adds. “Your hard work won’t go to waste, I promise.”

Valentina regards the King, then Ignis, knitting her brow.

“It will need adjustments,” she says, all business, circling Ignis to scrutinize her creation. “His shoulders will need to be covered. Sheer, I won’t have the back go unseen. Your Grace, if you would step back onto the pedestal.”

Ignis does as he’s told, ushered back onto his perch, gathering the hem at his sides.

“And what about you, Your Majesty?” Ella steps forth, handing her mentor a tape measure and pins. “Will you do the same?”

Noctis meets the eye of Valentina, looking around from where she’s pinning the same fabric of the train to Ignis’ shoulders.

“Of course he will,” Ignis responds, flinching when a pin pricks his skin. “Isn’t that right darling?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Noctis says, unclipping the crest of his mantle and handing it to Ella. “I trust that you know what would look best on me as well.”

“I think I do,” Valentina says carefully, the cogs already whirring behind her eyes. “Ella he’ll need to be measured.”

“Worry not, Your Majesty. Both of you are in good hands.”

-

“Is it weird that I’m nervous?”

Noctis fiddles with the flaps of his jacket, not used the crisp edges that fall just above his knee, the mantle landing just below it. The clasps that span the entire length of the garment pull with each breath, fitted at the waist and accentuating his hips. The sleeves end on the back of his palm in an outward V, golden seams making his hand look more delicate than they really are.

The two wait behind double doors which lead to a balcony, overlooking the square where they’ll make their first appearance to Altissia.

“You’re nervous?” Ignis says, raising a perfectly groomed brow, nudging Noctis at his side. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to presenting myself so…formally.”

“You will,” Noctis replies, twining their hands together. “It’s where you belong. I need you by my side.”

Ignis grazes over the thin band on Noctis’ finger, identical to his own on his opposite hand.

“Of course, my love,” he says fondly. “Always.”

“You look beautiful,” Noctis leans in so only Ignis can hear. “If I’d known, you’d have worn something like this to our wedding.”

“I only wish I could see you as well,” Ignis trails off, a flash of regret pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I’m sure you look equally so.”

Noctis sighs, pressing a comforting kiss to his temple.

“I promise you that I do,” he says playfully, drawing them both out of the moment. Ignis turns enough for Noctis to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth just as one of the estate staff receives their cue.

“It’s time, Your Majesty, Your Grace.”

The fanfare echoes just beyond the double doors, growing as they approach.

“I love you,” Noctis whispers, squeezing Ignis’ hand, and together, they step out before the crowd.

-

“I’m tempted to call Ella to come and help me with this damned thing,” Ignis grumbles from behind the dressing screen.

“Do you need help?” Noctis asks, unfastening the last of dozens of clasps down his front. The jacket is heavy, the attached black mantle sweeping around his shoulders. He stops to admire the intricate gold embroidery, wound in patterns not unlike what Ignis wore, with the traditional Lucian crest fixed at the shoulders.

He’s left in his dress shirt and pants, placing the diadem that serves as the mark of the King on the dresser. He sinks onto the mattress, arms above his head, yawning as his muscles relax upon his release.

“Come here and I’ll help you,” he says, undoing the top buttons around his collar.

“I’ve done most of it,” Ignis responds, coming around the screen, pulling at the lace around his neck. He’s left in the top half of the dress, sheer shocks of fabric still billowing out around his legs.

“I didn’t realize the train was connected to well…this,” he gestures to the bodice, smoothing it over his torso. The rest of him is bare, the outline of his cock apparent just behind the center folds. He must feel the King’s eyes on him, looking up in his direction. Even after years together, Noctis always finds it uncanny how Ignis can pinpoint his exact location, regardless of where they are.

He finds him, his knees knocking against the edge of the mattress when he slots himself between Noctis’ legs. Hands go to his hips, caressing the bone, slipping under the cloth and pulling him forward.

Ignis lifts a knee onto the bed, careful not to pull on the train. Noctis grunts when he places a hand on the center of his chest, pushing him down to climb into his lap.

“Well. Perhaps, I won’t take it off just yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a tribute to the amazing [@johnpetta](https://twitter.com/johnpetta)'s art of Ignis [in this dress](https://twitter.com/johnpetta/status/936120301481365504)! They based their drawing of [this real-life masterpiece](https://askasudesign.com/?portfolio=midnight-passion-gown). JP will inspire me always.
> 
> I've been working on this one for awhile, and it felt right to put it out today. Thank you <3


End file.
